Everybody Wants Oat Milk in Their Coffee These Days
Talking to the people I serve coffee to is what made me feel more than a cash machine with a heartbeat.
As soon as the shutters of the corner coffee shop were slammed open and the key turned in the glass door announcing another day’s start, I saw the line forming outside.
There was the frustrated mother of two, wrangling one blond boy and strapping the baby in the stroller. Thin strands of her unwashed hair lingered on her forehead. She inhales for a long second, maybe the first deep breath of the day. Exhaling, she orders a flat white with organic oat milk to go.
Lady, where do you think you are, California?
‘Flat white? We have cafe con leche’, I offered in exchange. She said fine, defeated.
I might never have two kids if it comes to this.
There was the entitled suited-up guy who thought he could skip the line because he was busy and important. And painfully handsome. He wanted his espresso, just like every morning; and rolled his eyes at the flat-white type of people.
There was the stylish couple with matching his and his polos, but in different colors. I bet they put oat milk in their coffees.
And here was a newcomer. A woman I had never seen before. She carried a purple umbrella on a clear-blue-sky day. Tourist, the quick verdict almost escaped my lips.
The second morning, the newcomer stepped in carrying the same purple umbrella. Still sunny in the forecast, lady.
Tourists never believed that Santander could also be sunny. The northern Spanish city was famed for being rainier than Cardiff, up in Wales.
Yesterday she had asked for an oat milk latte, but I lied that we only had soy milk left. Today she tried again, and again I offered soy milk. I placed my hands on the counter, where she could see them, and I puffed up my chest. Every bone in my body showed I was honest, that I almost believed it myself. In the end, she took my soy milk offer.
I really don’t care to see another shocked face when I tell them we’re out of oat milk. Why is everyone so obsessed with having oat milk in their coffee? Was there no diversity in the world anymore?
Every day, the woman tourist took turns in picking a different breakfast type from the menu. One day savory, another day, sweet. Plus a pastry to go.
I wonder where she goes to eat her extra pastry. I bet it’s on the boardwalk on Queen Victoria Avenue. One does get quite the view from there! Or maybe she walks with it all the way to the Magdalena peninsula.
Today I asked her if she lived around here.
She shook her head, confirming my hunch that she was a tourist. When I asked her where she was from, she smiled as if remembering an old, sweet memory, her answer lingering unspoken, making the next person in line impatient.
If my boss saw this, he might reprimand me, keeping a line of customers waiting so I could hear some stranger’s answer. Cashing in less money.
But talking to the people I serve coffee to every day, that small chit-chat is what made me feel more than a cash machine with a heartbeat. Also, choosing the milk for their coffee, switching it up for a bit of fun.
After a prolonged smile, her answer came.
‘I’m from many places.’ Her chin was up as she winked at me, proud of her own wit.
Tomorrow if she comes again, I might just put regular cow milk in her coffee, tell her it’s oats. I’ll show her another place, different than all of the many places she’s from. I roll my eyes but only in my mind, as I cannot let her see it, and I fake an interested look.
The next woman in line has been frowning for a while now, threatening to merge her two painted eyebrows into one black line. I’d better be quick with her.
It’s the third day in a row that my newcomer - can I still call her a newcomer if she’s been here for two days now? - comes to me to have breakfast here.
I bet she’s taking the tourist boat today. Her boat ticket sticks out of the book she holds close to her heart. I took that boat once too, the first time I came to live here, last summer. I know it takes you along the coast, breezing past the Puerto Chico area, and speeding towards the Magdalena palace, perched on the cliff of the peninsula. Then it circles the Mouro lighthouse island, the boat’s engine making turquoise waves out of the dark ocean. When the boat returns, cruising along the sandbank, everyone photographs it as if it were another world wonder.
People see the world too much through their phone screens these days.
Spending more time photographing that sandbank than looking straight at it. It takes the boat no longer than ten minutes to pass it, and nine out of those ten minutes, people take photos. Photos they will delete in bulk once they get back home and Google warns them they need to pay for extra storage if they don’t.
People see the world too much through their phone screens these days. At least I see it from my coffee shop counter. The counter is like the boat this woman will take today. Only for me, the world is made up of the people who move along the counter, while I stay put in my coffee-scented boat.
On the fourth day, the woman who came from many places didn’t show up anymore and I put the oat milk away. But soon enough the next hipster walked in and I had to surface it once again.
Everybody wants oat milk in their coffee these days. This looks like another leveler of different cultures. No matter where they come from, or what twisted language they speak, no matter if they’ve lived around the block for 20 years or traveled from across the pond, everybody wants oat milk for their coffee. They all become one abstract coffee drinker, who - this time for sure - comes from many places, all smashed into one.
Maybe tomorrow I’ll get lucky to meet another newcomer. I’ll tell them we only serve coconut milk in our coffee. Somebody’s gotta keep up the diversity quota, if only when it comes to the milk we put in our coffee.
Still have brain space for another piece? Here it is below:
😂 love this and had to laugh so hard!
It’s also really bad for our body and any other type of milk is so much better.
Here’s some scientific facts in case you ever need to win a oat milk war with someone who loves to argue ;)
https://www.instagram.com/reel/Copp3aQI9ac/?igshid=NzZhOTFlYzFmZQ==
Great read :) Indeed, we tend to "admire" nature through our phone cameras. Luckily I am not good at taking pictures, so I can enjoy the view :)